The Problem With Carktruffles
by pjjammjamm
Summary: Everyone always assumed that, as a woman and a member of the Weasley family in general, Ginny would be all about children, but she seems to be the only one without baby on the brain! How are lemons and Carktruffles involved in the Potter family gaining James Sirius? ONE SHOT, Please R&R


At first, everyone had assumed that, as the last daughter of a huge family who had met her perfect mate at a young age, Ginny Weasley— soon to be Ginny Potter, of the Holyhead Harpies—would be all about having children. "You'll be wonderful with them, too, dear, with all the experience you're getting with Teddy, and with having had such as wonderful mum as Molly as a role model," Andromeda had said, when she'd brought the topic of kids up to Ginny one late May day, as Ginny celebrated with friends and family at her bridal shower.

Ginny couldn't even hide her horror, "Oh, no, I don't think that's happening any time in the near future," She responded as calmly as she could, biting off her sentence before she could report that she had no intention of ever ruining her body and Quidditch career by having children EVER, at all.

Andromeda didn't look the slightest bit put-off, to Ginny's disappointment: Instead she gave the younger woman a superior and haughty look that immediately brought back recollections of Bellatrix, in a way that brought a sour taste to Ginny's mouth. "Of course, dear," Andromeda said simply, scooping Teddy up at his prompting from Ginny's arms, and swooping away to introduce the little boy to another group of giggling females nearby.

Ginny breathed a sigh of relief, leaning on the table with the lemonade and coffee to take a moment to herself. She and Harry weren't even married yet, hadn't even been able to start enjoying their own little family time with just the two of them. Between Harry's work as an Auror, and her own thriving career in Quidditch, it had not been often that Ginny got to spend more than a couple of evenings a week with her fiancée. The argument that absence made the heart grow fonder sounded weaker to Ginny every time her mother used it to keep her daughter living at home "rather than in sin," as Molly had put it.

"Oh, are you all right, Ginny," Luna had asked her as she'd come by then, seeing the stupefied and slightly frightened look on the youngest Weasley's face.

"Yes, thanks, Luna, I just…" Ginny briefly looked around to make sure the coast was clear for the moment, and confirmed that with the gifts opened and the food eaten, the socializing happening around her should allow a moment to rant safely. "I've had more people bring up babies today than the wedding ceremony itself! Why is it everyone seems to have baby on the brain today?" Ginny whimpered, more at ease than usual with her best friend. Luna may come across as quirky, but Ginny had learned through the years of friendship with her occasionally odd blond best friend that there was no one better she could go to for accurate insights on her own behavior in addition to the behaviors of others—even if she didn't always like what Luna had to say.

This time, however, Luna's response helped to alleviate some of the anxiety Ginny had been experiencing. "Well, it makes sense, doesn't it?" Luna asked, helping herself to a glass of lemonade, but then examining the pieces of lemon floating in it curiously. "Rolfe believes that people that a biological predisposition toward procreation."

"Oh, really?" Ginny asked, refreshed not by the lemonade she was now also sipping, but rather by Luna's unique perspective. "Is that what you believe, Luna?"

"Of course not! Everyone knows baby brain is the direct result of carktruffles infestation—they must have made it into your lemons," Luna surmised calmly, nodding once at the glass of lemonade in her hand, then gesturing to the pitcher of lemonade on the table in front of the women. "You should really do something about that, Ginny."

"I'll get right on it, Luna," Ginny answered solemnly, as she always did to Luna's assertions that her imaginary creatures were real.

The fact that carktruffles were probably a figment of Luna's imagination didn't keep her from accidentally dumping the lemonade pitcher on the floor a few moments later, before the day could progress toward bridal shower games.

As the wedding plans progressed, and the Quidditch Season commenced, Ginny stopped thinking as hard about babies and Luna's carktruffles. The Potter's special day was exactly the intimate and beautiful celebration of their love that Ginny had hoped for, with everyone she loved in attendance and none of the stress that other recent brides had warned her was imminent.

Ginny's move in with Harry had gone relatively easy as well, with few of the bumps that most couples experience when moving in with one another and working their individual differences around each other. For the most part, Harry got to the laundry before Ginny could be bothered—but while he was an excellent cook, he couldn't understand her intense need to get to the dishes right after they ate. It took little time before they had established a comfortable routine, always aware of each other without needing to say what they were going to do or work on next.

Although their routine mostly centered around the two of them, lunch with Hermione on Sunday's had become an established part of the week. It was during one such lunch, when Harry had yet to show up from seeing Teddy for his usual Sunday breakfast, that the carktruffles made their reappearance.

"It isn't that I'm not, you know, excited," Hermione was explaining. "And your mum is so amazing, offering to host my bridal shower in the backyard and everything. It's not that I'm not appreciative, it's just…"

Ginny smiled as understandingly as possible as her friend clammed up. "My mum can also be a bit much at times?"

Hermione breathed an immediate sigh of relief. "Exactly! I mean, the level of detail she puts into everything, from the food to the colors of the ceremony to the colors of the reception—I mean, how are those different?"

"They have to match, but that doesn't necessarily mean they have to be the same color," Ginny said, laughing, as she helped herself to another glass of pumpkin juice. "Do you want anything? We have pumpkin juice, or lemonade…" Remembering her own bridal shower in May, Ginny realized she ought to warn her already overwhelmed friend about the possible questions that might come at the announcement of a wedding date. "Actually, that reminds me—Just as a bit of a warning, don't be surprised if you start getting surrounded by women with baby brain who want to know when the newest Weasley is on the way."

"But Dominique isn't due for another four months," Hermione responded, blinking in confusion. "And pumpkin juice, please."

"Just as well—Apparently, the lemonade at my bridal shower is what got people asking baby questions."

"According to who- Luna?" Hermione guessed, smiling, as she was already fairly confident of the answer. Ginny's smile just confirmed her suspicions.

"Who else? Just don't be surprised, even Andromeda had brought the topic up to me in May," Ginny said, rolling her eyes slightly as she sat back down.

Hermione shrugged, taking another slow sip of pumpkin juice and looking at a far corner of the room somewhere above Ginny's head. "I'm not too worried about it," She stated, leaning back in her chair comfortable. "But it isn't really surprising, is it?"

Ginny bristled, the irritation she had felt at her own bridal shower returning. "It's like people assume that just because you're a Weasley, you're going to settle down to be a baby making machine."

"Well, you're not a Weasley anymore, you're a Potter, aren't you?" Hermione asked, her expression surprised. Ginny felt the glow of warmth start at her heart and work it's way outward at the mention of her new surname. Hermione continued, saying "Besides, I'll just tell them Ron and I are waiting until my careers settle down, so we have a good amount of time to devote to our baby." Shrugging, she settled more comfortably in her chair. "Besides, right now we wouldn't want to raise a child where we're living—there's just not enough room, and Ron would want a yard like the one you guys had when you were little before any sprogs came along."

"You guys have talked about that?" Ginny asked, surprised—Hermione had never seemed like one to act as a mum instead of a Minister, and Ron had certainly never expressed a specific interest in small children.

"Of course, it's in the list of things recommended in Gertrude Rotham's book on happy marriage that all couples should talk about before getting married," Hermione responded blithely, her expression changing as the silence after her statement dragged on. "Wait, you and Harry…. Haven't?"

"I mean, it just never really was brought up," Ginny said helplessly, unconsciously holding her hands in front of her in a defensive gesture.

"Never?" Hermione asked again, her own expression shocked.

"We never had a ton of time to just sit and talk before we moved in together, and we couldn't do that before the wedding—I still can't believe Mum hasn't found you and Ron out—" Hermione blushed, "And then afterward, I guess we just didn't really think about it. I've got Quidditch, and I can't do that and look after the children, and Harry's an Auror, which isn't exactly the safest profession to guarantee a nine to five job, and besides, we've got Teddy—isn't he enough?"

"I don't know," Hermione answered carefully, now focusing her gaze strictly onto her glass of pumpkin juice. "I'm not Harry, I'm not the one you'd have to ask. But anyways, lemonade at such an early Spring wedding wouldn't make sense anyways, I'm thinking more coffee, tea and pumpkin juice, maybe, with those mini cakes from—"

"Wait, do you think maybe Teddy's not enough? For Harry, I mean? Has he said something, or hinted he wanted more? Oh, shite, I knew it wasn't just the lemonade—"

Hermione bit her lip, but grabbed Ginny's hands in an attempt to calm her soon-to-be sister-in-law down. "Ginny, calm down, Harry hasn't said anything, and I doubt that he would—he's Harry, remember? But…"

Ginny could feel her eyes filling up, despite her best attempts to keep her emotions in check. "But WHAT, Hermione?"

Hermione sighed, maintaining her hands on Ginny's hands, and finally making eye contact. "Relax, please, like I said, Harry hasn't said anything to me, or Ron that I know of, at all. But, Ginny, I wouldn't be surprised to learn that Harry, who grew up without any family he wanted to claim at all, would want to eventually make a family of his own. I mean, isn't that something he always appreciated about the Burrow in the first place? The sense of family?"

Ginny set her pumpkin juice down, unattended, as now it was her turn to stare blankly at a corner of the room. "Of course it would. And of course he does, he's always talking about how important it is to be there for family—he's always okay with it, willing to put you guys first. You and Ron, I mean, he says you're his family, only now he's said I'm his family and… Oh, God, Hermione, I just…"

Hermione eyed her friend sympathetically, sipping her pumpkin juice slowly. Hearing Harry walk in from his meeting that had run late, Hermione drained the last of her pumpkin juice and rose quickly from her seat.

"Ginny? Hermione? I'm sorry I'm late, ladies, I—"

"Actually, I just realized I had something I forgot to do, Harry, I have to go, I'm sorry," Hermione stated, straightening imaginary creases in her clothes and eyeing Ginny in concern.

"You had something to do that you forgot? We always have lunch on Sundays—"

"I'm sorry, really, I promise, next week I'll make it up to you guys. Ginny's in the other room, I'll see you soon," Hermione promised, stepping up to the fireplace to floo.

Harry entered the room a moment later, just as Ginny was coming out of her stupor, a baffled look on his face. "Any idea what that was about?" Harry asked, coming over to sit next to her. "I know she's had a lot on her mind with the wedding, but it isn't like Hermione to forget our Sunday lunches. Normally she's got everything taken care of before she makes plans."

"Yeah, Hermione's good at that," Ginny answered him hollowly, grabbing Hermione's pumpkin juice glass and carrying it to the sink. Gertrude Rotham's book on happy marriage, indeed. "Are you thirsty, sweetheart? Coffee, tea, pumpkin juice—we have pretty much everything except the lemons you like for your tea," Ginny offered, gritting her teeth at the end of her last sentence.

Poor Harry, puzzled, followed his wife into the kitchen, pulling her into his arms for a deep kiss despite her slight resistance. "Ginny, sweetheart—we never have lemons in February."

Ginny didn't answer, and kept quiet and to herself for the rest of the night.

Ginny clutched her broomstick as hard as she could in her fist, her fingers white-knuckled as she stepped into the change room. The results she'd just seen on another stick flashed in front of her, superimposed over the scene that was actually taking place. Stunned, she listened as the logical part of her brain chastised her for not taking her monthly potion on time at the end of last season, when that game against the Falmouth Falcons had lasted for days longer than anticipated. Meanwhile, even more shocking, were the cartwheels and jumping jacks her heart was doing, feeling her with more excitement and nerves than she'd experienced since her first game of Quidditch. The noise around her seemed even more intense the usual, the familiar chanting of the crowds outside slipping under her skin. Overheated, she headed to the water jug in the corner and the paper cups next to it, staring absently at the lemons as she poured herself a small cup.

"Oi, Potter—you okay over there?" Olive asked, her blue eyes shining at Ginny's face in concern. "You look a little too out of it to be flying hundreds of feet above the ground in front of thousands of people."

"I'm fine," Ginny denied immediately, spitefully picking the lemon pieces out of her water and throwing them on the changing room floor. "I'm ready to go."

"Alright, team's up in five. Drinks after the game?" Brooke asked cheerfully, putting her keepers gloves on and flexing her fingers gleefully.

"I'm out on this one," Ginny responded immediately, trying her best to sound nonchalant and giving herself away immediately. "Harry's going to be expecting me," She covered quickly, satisfied when Brooke nodded in an understanding fashion.

"Of course, I'd leave right after too if I thought I had a change of celebrating with Mr. Perfect—I mean, Mr. Potter," Brooke giggled, rolling her eyes. "Right, so—"

"Potter, if you've got something to say, now's the time to say it," Gwen stated abruptly, her green gaze sharp on Ginny's own. "I've seen that look before." Ginny stared at her, still silent from shock, her eyes going wide. "You're not the first on the team that this has happened to, just the first that's probably done things in the right order."

Ginny's teammates grew uneasy. "Ginny, what's she talking about?" Olive asked nervously, her face looking incredibly innocent with it's bleach blond curls.

Ginny swallowed, her mouth and throat suddenly bone-dry. "Gwen's right, I'm not going to be able to focus on my broom when there's a different stick on my mind," Ginny admitted, swallowing some more water to keep from throwing her morning's breakfast back up. "I have to go. Kate—" the back up chaser jumped, surprised at being addressed right before a big game, "It's up to you, and I know you've got this. I'm sorry you guys, you know I love you, but I've got to put my family first."

The words only somewhat burned as she turned away from her stunned team, leaving the shockingly silent changing room behind her to approach the roar of the stadium above. That team had been like her family for the last few years, her support system through so many ups and downs she couldn't even count them all: She knew they would look out for her in any way they could, but even the best beaters since Fred and George's days on the Gryffindor team couldn't guarantee that Ginny could play the game she loved without any injury, and she couldn't risk it now.

When she arrived in the stands minutes later, it was to watch her teammates fly up into their positions on the field. Her husband goggled at her, his eyes wide behind his fat black frames, and Ginny abruptly hoped that if their child got her husband's beautiful green eyes, they would at least be able to find some slightly less bulky glasses.

"Gin—but—your team, why aren't you—"

"I'm so sorry, Harry, we're family, we should've talked about—"

"I mean, we're family, but they're your family too, whatever's been off or wrong lately can wait until after the game and we can talk about—"

"Harry, this happened before the game."

"Before the game?"

"A lot before. At least two months before."

"Two months before… Ginny, what—"

"Harry, I have to leave this family. It'd put our new family at risk."

"Our new family?" Despite how confused, perplexed he sounded, Ginny couldn't help noticing the spark of hope in his eyes. How had she not seen or recognized that look on Harry's face before? Had she been that caught up in the lemons that she'd encountered in her life, that she hadn't realized how the word "family" made her husband's eyes smile?

"Our newest family member, rather," Ginny agreed, placing on hand on her stomach. Harry stared at her, his expression frozen and still so Harry—so hopeful, so baffled. "Say hello to the newest Potter," Ginny murmured, a smile spreading across her face as his husband's eyes filled with awe and maybe a few tears, his expression crossing quickly into that of the excitement and terror that she had experienced in the changing room bathrooms just a few moments ago.

Harry's face told Ginny everything she needed to know: They didn't need to talk about it, to plan it out or to assume that it would happen. Things had fallen into place the way they were supposed to, and Harry finally had the family he'd always dreamed of—And Ginny, well, she finally achieved the dream she'd never known she'd strived for.

When the Potters announced the arrival of James Sirius, no one could tell who was happier—Harry, Ginny, or Luna, whose firm belief in carktruffles had finally been proven valid.

Poor Ginny craved lemons the rest of her pregnancy, and laughed too hard when anybody asked why to properly explain it.


End file.
